Marion Agnew

Disclaimer: I am not a poet. I do not write poetry, except sometimes accidentally. Disclaimer: As a person closer to fuddy-duddy fogeydom than hipster up-and-coming-hood, I have great respect for the traditions in which I was born. Namely: * immersion in the work that came before now, this moment when my fingers are on the keyboard * development of skill (through education) in traditions and rules * devotion to and respect for reflection, time, and care in expression Disclaimer: I am not here to trash or demean "insta-poets" or "is this poetry" or "how can these young whippersnappers make millions from poetry" or whatever conversation of the moment is happening around social media and poetry. Equally, I am not here to say "we should all do this." I'm just here to share what I enjoy. April is Poetry Month. Last week I talked a little about my Instagram feed and the pleasures it brings . Among the images of journals, fabrics, and col

Social media is...interesting. I appreciate its ability to connect people and try to manage its ability to exacerbate disagreements. My (current) favourite is Instagram, where my presence is newest. I have curated what I see there carefully, so that my feed is mostly images from arts and artists, with a smattering of books, bags, and boots (none of which I am currently buying) (except within certain rules). So, poetry. One of my favourite accounts is Today Calls, a product of artist Christof Migone. The visual is black (itself an interesting addition to what I see, given that most of my feed is so colourful), with a recording of three voices. The text each voice reads is below that day's entry. The commentary within and among prompts is interesting. All the voices are interesting. The events that they use as prompts are interesting. It's a really fun way to experience poetry, especially in the form of a daily moment. I haven't seen anything like it on Instagram or e

Of all the forms writing can take, poetry still mystifies me the most.  Prose, whether fiction or nonfiction, makes me think of lines--roads, maybe, or sidewalks, or even deertracks through grass. These lines don't have to be straight. They can backtrack or meander, they can be short or long. The lines don't even have to be connected. They can look like ||| or =. Just--they're lines.  Maybe. In contrast, poetry may be more like experiencing a park by sitting on a bench under one tree in that park. On one hand, you're there in that moment experiencing that bench under that particular tree. On many other hands, you're experiencing that same place in different times, different weather. You're also looking at other parts of the park, observing the blades of grass or the rocks or the cacti or the demonstrators--even if the poem doesn't direct you to look at them, they're there. All without the poet specifying those things. Maybe.  Maybe it&

As I've mentioned, this Thursday evening is "Ask an Author ," a panel discussion in Thunder Bay in which four writers with different backgrounds and publishing experiences answer questions. On Saturday, participant Jeannette Lynes is presenting two workshops, sponsored by NOWW : one about novel basics, and another about historical research and writing. Fun times ahead! Also recently, the Association of Writers & Writing Programs held its conference. If you've seen mention of "AWP 19" in the writerly social media world, that's what it refers to. The most recent issue of Assay , a journal of nonfiction, has lots of interesting articles about nonfiction, what it is, and ways to teach it. All of which is to say, many recent conversations (both aloud and in my head) have turned over the differences and similarities between truth and facts, creative nonfiction and journalism, historical fiction and history, memoir and memory. For starters. As I p